


You're A Mean One, Mr Malfoy

by Darkrivertempest



Series: Dramione Advent Stories [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Humor, Established Relationship Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Lucius is Scrooge, Mild Blood, Mild Language, Possible Dark Future, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 15:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21652990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkrivertempest/pseuds/Darkrivertempest
Summary: Lucius Malfoy thinks it is high time that Draco Malfoy be married and carry on the Malfoy name.Too bad Lucius dislikes Draco's choice.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Dramione Advent Stories [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/711438
Comments: 28
Kudos: 143
Collections: D/Hr Advent 2019





	You're A Mean One, Mr Malfoy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2019 Dramione_Advent community on LiveJournal. My prompt was **Scrooge**.
> 
> **Mild trigger warning:** Because this is based on Dickens _A Christmas Carol_, hopefully you know towards the end that the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come shows a very bleak future. My interpretation of this bleak future for the Malfoys includes implied miscarriage (blood purity and lineage being a theme). If this is a NOPE factor for you, please don't read and stay in your safe zone. Most of it is off-screen or implied.
> 
> Many, many thanks to my beta, DelphiPSmith, who is lovely and beta'd this while enjoying a snow day (10 inches of snow!). 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** _The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

“Victoria Greengrass asked about you yesterday, Draco,” Lucius said conversationally. “She said Astoria is back home from Switzerland and--”

“No,” Draco said flatly, as he continued eating his breakfast. He was tired of this discussion already.

Lucius placed his tea cup on the saucer, hard. “You’re twenty-four, Draco. It’s time you were married, and carrying on the Malfoy line.”

Draco paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “I’ve been dating for the past three years, Father. You know this. I plan to ask Hermione to--”

“No!” Lucius thundered. He threw his napkin on the table. “I’ve indulged your little hobby of dallying with the Granger girl, but there are limits. While she may be a credit to Muggle-borns, she will _not_ sully our family! You are a Pure-blood Malfoy and you will marry a Pure-blood witch. If not Astoria Greengrass, then another witch from a respectable family.”

“_Hobby_?” Draco said in a frigid tone. “Hermione is far more than a hobby, she’s a damn obsession with me!” He dropped his fork to his plate with a clatter. “I’m asking her to marry me, Father. I won’t have some inbred witch who would probably produce heirs that wouldn’t survive to their fifth year. You should be happy for me.”

Lucius stood and leaned on his cane. “I’ll be happy when you’re settled with a Pure-blood witch and I can dote on grandchildren. Your mother would--”

“Don’t you dare bring Mother into this,” Draco hissed. Her death still left a hollow ache in his chest. “She wanted me to be happy. And I am. Very. Happy.”

Lucius narrowed his eyes. “You leave me no choice, then. I want you to leave. Don’t come back until you’ve come to your senses.”

Draco stared at his father. Was he serious? Hadn’t their family been through enough? He shook his head. “If that’s what you want.” He got up and donned his cloak.

Lucius’ eyes were cold, his face immobile. “It’s not what I want, but I must preserve the Malfoy legacy.”

“Good luck with that, seeing as I’m your only heir,” Draco said. He took one last look at his father. “You’re nothing but a bitter, heartbroken, miserly old wizard… and you’ll die alone.”

Draco ignored Lucius’ shout of frustration as he Floo’d home.

* * *

Hermione knew something was wrong the moment she arrived home from work. 

She found Draco in the study, staring into the fire, a tumbler of Ogden’s Best dangling from his fingers. “I take it breakfast with your father didn’t go well?” Several of their co-workers and friends were supposed to be meeting them for dinner that evening to celebrate Christmas, but now, sensing Draco’s mood, she wondered if it would be a good idea to postpone the get-together.

Draco blinked rapidly and tried to hide a sniff. He swallowed a large portion of his drink before rasping, “I’ve been disowned.”

“What?” She came and sat on the arm of the chair and began carding her fingers through his disheveled hair. “Can he do that?”

Draco shrugged. “Doesn’t matter if he can _legally_, but emotionally? I’m as good as dead to him.”

Her fingers drifted to his warm cheeks, gently wiping away the wetness that lingered there. “Oh, Draco.” She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “What happened?”

He grabbed the hand that was still on his cheek and kissed her palm. “He was disappointed that I wasn’t married and having children by now.” He forced out a laugh and gazed at her. “I told him I was just getting to it.”

She stilled, barely breathing. “Draco?”

He gave her a lopsided smile. “I planned to ask you this evening at dinner, but I think I’d rather do it now.” He set his drink on the side table and pulled something out of his pocket, then slipped a silver, emerald, and diamond ring upon her left ring finger. “It was my mother’s; I grabbed it before I had breakfast with Lucius.” He took a deep breath. “Help me fulfill my mother’s dying wish that I live a happy life and marry me?”

Tears flooded Hermione’s eyes. “Before I say yes,” she hedged, and Draco’s brilliant smile dimmed a bit, “tell me what happened with your father.”

Draco tightened his grip on her hand and waist. “He wanted me to marry a… Pure-blood.” He buried his face in her chest. “I told him I was marrying you and to get stuffed.”

She kissed the top of his head and chuckled. “I have a hard time picturing you saying ‘get stuffed’ to Lucius Malfoy.” She pulled his chin up so she could see him. “I do want you to be happy, Draco. But if being with me is making--”

Draco cut her off with a fierce kiss. “Don’t even think it. You are what I want, and sod my father.”

She looked at him, seeing the devotion in his gaze. “Okay, then.”

“Okay? Is that an ‘okay you’ll tie your life to my sorry arse’?” he asked nervously.

She nuzzled her nose against his. “Yes, and sod Lucius Malfoy.”

Draco buried his face in her neck and whooped with joy.

* * *

“I have a scathingly brilliant idea!”

Everyone at the table turned their attention to Harry Potter. The planned Christmas dinner had gone ahead as scheduled, and all their guests had been apprised of both Draco and Hermione’s engagement, and Lucius’ disapproval. With the support of their friends, Draco and Hermione felt as if they could weather just about anything.

Harry grinned at Hermione. “Do you know the Muggle tale, _A Christmas Carol_?”

One could practically see the gears in Hermione’s mind working. “Yes… yes!” She grabbed Harry’s hand. “Lucius is a modern day Scrooge!”

The others, having grown up in the wizarding world, were at a loss to follow them, so Hermione and Harry quickly summarized for them the tale of how Ebenezer Scrooge, sour miser and angry humbug, was visited by three ghosts, after which he turned over a new leaf and lived his life in the spirit of Christmas. By the end, everyone had grasped Harry’s idea.

“I want to be the Ghost of Christmas Past,” Luna said. “I’ve been told I look like a spirit in the middle of the night, so I think I can be translucent enough.”

Hermione grinned, then looked to Draco. “Wait, are we really doing this?”

“Of course!” George Weasley said. “I’ve got tonnes of things in the shop that would make this an epic adventure.”

Draco smirked. “Lucius won’t stand a chance.”

* * *

Lucius Malfoy had just eaten a meagre supper before retiring to bed. He had thought to bank the fire, but he was especially cold this evening so left it blazing. He refused to think that his chill might be due to his earlier conversation with his son.

“Headstrong boy,” Lucius grumbled at Narcissa’s portrait. She arched a brow at him. “Just like you. Always finding a way to circumvent my wishes.”

She smirked and then turned her back on him and disappeared, no doubt to another painting somewhere else in the manor. He grunted, got into bed, and snuffed out the light.

He couldn’t have been asleep for very long when he was awoken by a shift in the atmosphere, a drop in temperature. He shivered. Hadn’t he kept the fire going? He got up and bent over to throw another log on the coals, then fell backwards as a sudden blaze nearly scorched his eyebrows from his head.

A being stepped out of the hearth, surrounded by a bright glow. It approached him slowly, while he sat on the floor in shock.

“Lucius Malfoy… I’m here to guide your spirit,” said the airy voice. “Avoiding dragon pox is on you, though.”

His initial shock (and, he refused to admit, fear) instantly died. “How did you get in here? Do you know who I am?”

“Lucius Abraxas Malfoy,” the being said. “Wait, hold on. I think I’m blinding you.” The glow around the person dimmed considerably and Lucius was now looking at…

“Lovegood?” He stood up and stalked towards her. “What the hell are you doing in my house at this time of night?” 

She waved at him and suddenly his feet were stuck to the floor. He was not having this! “_Accio wand_!” He waited, palm up… but nothing happened. He called for his wand again, and once again, his hand remained empty. He was certain he had placed it underneath his pillow, as was his habit, but apparently it was now nowhere that it could have been summoned. “What have you done?” he seethed.

“You will not need mortal instruments on our journey,” Luna said with a ghostly moan. “You only need to change your mind… and maybe your attire, because it’s quite cold out there. Maybe something woolen. Maybe also a hair-tie, because it’ll be windy.”

“Are you daft? I’m not going anywhere with you!” Even as he tried to free himself, Lucius found himself covered from head to toe in warm clothes, a scarf wrapped several times about his neck to the point he was almost choking. “Ah cont breeef!”

“What?” Luna came closer and pulled down the first layer of scarf. “There, is that better?”

“Releasing me and vacating my house would be better!” Lucius said through gritted teeth. 

She patted his cheek. “Can’t. Got to play my part. It’s for a good cause, you know.”

“No, I don’t know! Cease this madness!”

“Disowning your son Draco is madness, so I think you’re the one who needs to cease,” she countered and slid her arm through his. “This is just an intervention. Or possibly a spiritual awakening that results in you sitting in a bowl with seven elves dancing on your knees and you getting upset because they visit other trees. Whichever comes first.”

Lucius stared at her. “I’m going to die tonight, aren’t I?”

“Do you want to?” She opened the French door that led to the massive gardens behind the manor. “I mean, I can let go of you when we fly over Scotland, maybe near Loch Ness? I don’t know if the fall or the shock of cold water will kill you first. Draco would be dreadfully disappointed in me, though, so I don’t think I should.”

“You belong in the Janus Thickey ward!” Lucius tried to free himself from her grip, but to no avail. 

“Such a lovely place, actually.” She took his arm and with a quick twist Apparated them both to the edge of the Black Lake, near Hogwarts. “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Lucius glared at her. “Piss off.” 

She shrugged and led him into the castle. But to Lucius’ astonishment it wasn’t the present-day castle… He watched as the ghosts of his friends ran by, yelling and laughing, and then he spied himself, a thin fifth-year, a look of despair on his face, trying desperately to hide. 

“Why so sad, Lucius?” Luna asked softly. 

He knew why, but he didn’t want to tell her. The words came anyway. “There was a witch I fancied over the summer. Alexandria Callen. Witty, dark. And Muggle-born.”

“Abraxas didn’t approve?”

Lucius watched as the younger version of himself projected abject misery. “I never saw her after that summer,” he said slowly. “I suspect he had her… removed.” He was silent for a long moment, gazing absently at nothing, then he shook himself. “It was of no consequence; I was betrothed to Narcissa Black and there was no breaking the contract in a way that didn’t result in pain or death.”

“Do you miss her?” Luna asked, patting his shoulder.

“She represented the forbidden, but she was… unbearably kind to a wizard who was trying to find his place in the world. When she disappeared, I knew that my life was already planned for me, and if I tried to deviate, the measures used to pull me back in line would be... quite painful.” He sniffed and looked away. “Is that all, witch?”

Luna gave him a serene smile. “One more stop.” 

Their surroundings swirled, then slowly solidified until it was clear they were in the midst of a party. Lucius glanced around in puzzlement, then spied a young Draco in his finest dress robes escorting a witch into the Great Hall. Ah yes, the Yule Ball.

He saw Hermione Granger entered on the arm of Viktor Krum, looking quite fetching… for a Muggle-born. He also observed that Draco, instead of paying attention to his date, followed Granger all round the room, drifting in and out of her orbit as she twirled. He could see the longing in his son’s gaze, the desire. So, the obsession had started as early as that?

“Draco has long admired Hermione, Lucius,” Luna offered. “Even if he tried not to let it show.”

It explained many things over the years. In grades, they had both ranked nearly equal, which had grated on Lucius’ nerves constantly. During the war, Draco had been saved by Granger and Potter on multiple occasions. The animosity Lucius had always felt towards her had clearly not been passed on to his son.

Luna pulled a timepiece out of her pocket and glanced at it. “Have you ever realized how nice bread is? So many things taste good on it. Like, it’s crazy to think that peanut butter and turkey can both taste good on the same thing. Not at the same time, of course.”

Lucius looked at her as if she were a Manticore. “What?”

“Just saying I need to get you back before the next one!”

He was more confused by the minute, but when the swirling mists cleared this time he found himself back in his bedroom and alone. He sat on his bed, shaking a little. The room was silent but for the crackle of the fire. Until suddenly there was a loud boom and his bedchamber was filled with black, sparkling powder.

“Know me better, Malfoy!” intoned a voice from the murk.

Lucius sneezed black residue. He waved away the smoke, coughing. “What… the hell?”

As the cloud slowly dispersed, Lucius recognized a Weasley, sitting cross-legged atop a mountain of various products from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The wizard was holding a rough-edged chunk of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. 

“Well, I have been called the Devil by my mum.” George Weasley (it must be he, since Fred, the other twin, had died in the war) jumped to the floor with a wide smile. “We’ll be on a first name basis by the end of the night.”

Lucius sneered. “Hardly. Mr Weasley, remove your person -- and products -- from my bedchamber. Immediately!”

George waved his hand and the mass of Wheezes products vanished, but his grin remained. “No can do, Lucy. Got to knock some sense into you.”

“Lucy?” Lucius’ brows rose into his hairline.

“Would you prefer LuLu?” 

“Get out.”

George laughed and, grabbing Lucius’ wrist, dragged him to the same doors through which Lovegood had taken him. “Sure, Lucy, but you’re coming with me!”

Lucius’ response was lost in the wind, his hair whipping everywhere. When they landed, they were in London, in front of a modest house; light suffused every level and infectious laughter could be heard. They melted through the walls and Lucius took in the scene.

Draco and Hermione were hosting a party, with Lovegood, Potter, several Weasleys and many others in attendance. Everyone was laughing, eating and enjoying one another’s company. At one point, Draco stole Hermione away from the gathering and raised her hand to kiss her knuckles. Lucius gasped as he spied Narcissa’s ring sparkling on Granger’s finger. 

“That… that… boy!” he spat, near incoherent with anger.

“He loves her desperately,” George whispered in his ear. “More than I loved my brother, more than you loved your wife.”

Lucius turned to Weasley, anger and sorrow warring in his features. “I loved her so… Narcissa. I miss… my wife,” he finally choked. “Don’t speak to me of what love is!”

“But do you know what it is? Truly?” Both of them watched as Hermione and Draco danced, their eyes filled with nothing but each other, everyone cheering them on. “They are the future, Lucius. The hate you carry in your heart has no more place in this world. Great tragedy will befall them if you continue.”

Lucius studied his son, seeing him clearly. The happiness on his face was undeniable. The witch in his arms made him happy and she was just as enamoured of him. This was no mere dalliance that Draco could be persuaded, or ordered, to cast aside to further the Pure-blood line. This was Draco firmly making his choice. The two of them reminded him of Narcissa and himself on their wedding day: happy, looking forward to the future, eager to begin their lives.

“I… I don’t know.” Lucius turned away, unable to watch them anymore. “Bloodlines are important, Mr Weasley, even if you don’t believe it.”

George nudged Lucius. “All the Pure-bloods are intermingled, though, Lucy.” This earned him an exasperated look from Lucius. “The only way _any_ of the lines survive is if new blood is introduced.” He nodded towards Draco and Hermione. “This generation will ensure that you will live on through them.”

“The purity,” Lucius objected weakly. “Tradition is--”

“Killing us,” Weasley pointed out. “And don’t you see? Granger is more powerful than you _because_ of the diversity.” 

“Preposterous!” 

George sighed heavily. “I was afraid of this.” He grabbed Lucius’ hand and tugged him skyward. 

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see, unfortunately.” 

“Explain yourself!” Malfoy shouted as the wind once again tore through him, making him shudder with cold as much as with the ominous feeling of dread welling within him.

Safely back in Lucius’ bedroom, George looked at him sadly. “I gave you a taste of what is. Now, you’ll understand what could be.”

“Spare me your cryptic ramblings, Weasley, and--”

But Lucius was speaking to an empty room. George Weasley was gone, and with him the somewhat cheery atmosphere. Now the room felt as if it had been dipped in the Black Lake during deep winter, quenching all light and warmth and leaving no hope at all.

Lucius could see frost etching its way across the window panes, as if Dementors had entered the area. While his two previous visitors had been innocuous, he knew this next one would bring untold trouble with it.

The French doors opened but this time, instead of himself exiting, a figure entered -- a figure dressed in Death Eater robes, its face covered by a silver scroll-work mask. Lucius couldn’t help himself; he shivered and cowered just a bit, hating the sight of the figure stalking towards him and hating his own cowardice even more. Was this reality or hallucination? He was in such a state he couldn’t tell.

The tall robed figure stopped in front of Lucius and pointed its wand menacingly at him. “Look upon your destruction,” the figure said in a low tone, its voice deep and multilayered.

Lucius gritted his teeth, waiting for the figure to seize hold of him and take him on another journey, but it did not. Instead, a scene played out in front of him.

_Draco stood alone before the ranks of the remaining Death Eaters as they welcomed him, his smile as empty as his eyes, a splash of blood on his cheek. _

_“Well done.” Yaxley clapped his hands on Draco’s shoulder. “Got rid of that deadweight, finally. He was as useless as clothes on a centaur. Why the Dark Lord kept him around, when we could’ve had the stronger one within our ranks is beyond me.” Yaxley kissed Draco on his bloodied cheek. “Welcome home, son.”_

_Draco nodded impassively. “What is our next mission?”_

_“That arrogant Mudblood, Granger. She’s evaded our grasp for too long. I found a safe house where she and Potter have stayed before. Time for revenge.”_

_An evil smirk unfurled on Draco’s face. “I want her myself. Witch destroyed my family!”_

_“That’s my boy,” Yaxley crowed._

Lucius felt sick. Whom had Draco killed? Why was Yaxley, one of the most ruthless Death Eaters, calling Draco ‘son’? Draco wouldn’t kill Granger, would he? Not given how much he loved…

Another scene started to play out and Lucius was unable to look away.

_The land was desolate, Malfoy Manor in disrepair, the grounds scorched. The green and lush gardens where peacocks had wandered were nothing more than dust and decay. Even the sun seemed pale and cold. A lone figure walked the path that had once been lined with hedges and roses. Its black cape billowed in the breeze and wisps of platinum hair escaped the confines of the hood. _

_“Is it done?” the figure asked._

_Another figure emerged from the wreck of the house into the grey sunlight . “It is done, my lord. Shall I burn it?”_

_The first figure turned around and Lucius’ couldn’t contain a sob. Draco, lean to the point of emaciation, much older and scarred, surveyed his surroundings. He waved a negligent hand at the other figure and soon the entire estate was ablaze. _

_“Bring Astoria,” Draco commanded his follower. _

_The other wizard disappeared and when he returned he was dragging a slender blonde witch with him; the woman was bruised and bloody, her skin sallow and unhealthy. She was also clearly pregnant. When she stood before Draco, he wrapped a hand in her hair and twisted it until her neck was arched at an extreme angle. _

_“Why haven’t you had the whelp yet?” he hissed against her cheek._

_“I’m due any day, my lord. My body, it’s--”_

_Her words cut off as he slapped her. “That’s what you said the last four times, dear wife. Why is it that your body keeps producing dead offspring?”_

_Blood trickled from her nose. “I don’t know, my lord. I have tried…”_

_“Try harder! We need to keep the line pure!” Draco shook her. “This one had better survive.”_

The pain of not producing a live offspring was well known to Lucius. Narcissa had had two miscarriages before Draco was born, and Lucius had mourned the loss with her. But this version of his son -- who clearly felt no emotion whatsoever for his lost children or his wife’s pain -- was abhorrent, unrecognizable. Hadn’t Lucius instilled the importance of family in his son? He and Narcissa had done everything they could to keep him safe during the war, even bartered their souls to others to keep Draco alive. But if this was the result, it meant nothing.

The scene shifted, and Lucius gasped at the appalling end of his ‘pure’ line.

_Astoria lay dead, covered in blood, a small bundle wrapped in a blanket beside her. Another failed delivery. Draco stood over her, his face contorted with rage, the tip of his wand still glowing a venomous green with the aftermath of his Killing Curse.. _

_“My lord, there are other--”_

_A flick of his wand and the minion was struck down instantly, never to move again. “There are no others! No more Pure-bloods!” Draco screamed at the dead figure on the ground. _

_Suddenly Draco’s eyes went wide and he collapsed to the ground, his gaze permanently fixed in the distance. Lucius spied a witch behind his prone son, unfamiliar, with long black hair, blue robes and her wand pointed at the now-fallen wizard._

_“Purity is an outdated construct.” She slid her wand up her sleeve. “Welcome to the new world, my friends. It begins here, with the death of Draco Malfoy.” She stepped over his body and those that followed her barely spared Draco a glance._

The vision faded, leaving Lucius hunched over, his face buried in his hands, sobbing. “Stop,” he begged. “I won’t let this happen! Draco deserves to live!”

“He deserves to be happy,” the Death Eater countered. “He would rather do that with you _and_ the woman he loves.”

“Yes,” Lucius choked out. “Yes, he deserves her. She makes him… happy.”

The Death Eater removed its mask, revealing Draco himself. “She does, Father. She truly does.”

Lucius looked up, his cheeks wet. “Draco?”

His son knelt down and put a gentle hand on his father’s shoulder. “Do you see now? Do you understand the ramifications of your Pure-blood desires? It would ruin both of us.”

Lucius nodded hesitantly. “I would…” He cleared his throat, trying to dispel the tears that clogged it. “I would like to have dinner with you and Miss Granger. To get to know the witch that captured my son’s heart.”

A luminous smile broke out on Draco’s face. “Tomorrow is Christmas. I think that can be arranged.” He shed the Death Eater robes and Vanished them along with the mask. “I’m sorry if this seems drastic, but I couldn’t think of another way to get through to you, to make you understand.”

Lucius pulled his son into a tight hug. “You were persuasive, son. Just like your mother.” He kissed Draco’s temple. “I’m… sorry you had to resort to these tactics.”

“Come on,” Draco said as he tugged his father up. “It’s late and I’m sure you’re tired. I know I am.”

Lucius sat down upon the bed and pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting off a headache. He was weary to his very bones. “One thing. Tell Mr Weasley that if he ever calls me ‘Lucy’ again, I’ll hex his nether regions into nonexistence.” 

Draco gave him a strange look. “George? When was he here?”

Now it was Lucius’ turn to look confused. “He was my second intruder…or guest. Did you not send him?”

“He was going to, but he drank a bit too much and went home to sleep it off. Potter was supposed to show up in his place. But you say he didn’t?” Draco frowned. “Are you sure it was George Weasley?”

“It was assuredly not Potter.” Lucius broke out in a cold sweat as he spoke. “I know a Weasley twin when I see one. But whether it was George or… Fred, I suppose I cannot say.”

Draco and Lucius exchanged nervous, dubious looks, then studied the room around them. It was devoid of dark shadows, warmly infused with flickering firelight. 

“Hm.” Draco handed his father his wand. 

“You had this? When did you take it?”

“Before you went to bed. I couldn’t have you casting spells on me or my friends. Would have defeated the purpose of the whole night. Though, on second thought, if Fred visited from the beyond...”

“Perhaps Fred had a message in his own right,” Lucius said thoughtfully, as he tucked his wand underneath his pillow. 

“It would be just like a Weasley to steal a Malfoy’s thunder,” Draco replied with a grin. 

“Indeed.”

* * *

Hermione could admit she was shocked that her and Harry’s scheme had worked. She could even admit that she was floored when Lucius asked for her to attend a small dinner with him and Draco. What she had serious trouble acknowledging, however, was how solicitous Lucius was being.

“You shall have the ceremony upon the Manor grounds,” Lucius said over the roast grouse and _gratin Dauphinois_. ”The gardens are exquisite in the spring.”

She glanced at Draco, who seemed to be having trouble hiding his smile. “I… I’m not sure when--”

“Early June, of course, my dear. You will look lovely in the latest fashion from Vera Wang. Her bridal line is second to none.”

“Father, please, let me and Hermione--”

“Of course you’ll honeymoon in France. Our chateau in Provence is marvelous, if I do say so myself, and the stunning lavender fields stretch out for acres, filling the air with the most delightful perfume.”

“Father!”

Lucius looked at Draco in surprise. “Is France too much? We do have that villa in Italy if--”

“Lucius,” Hermione ventured, placing her hand atop his and capturing his attention. “Thank you for your suggestions. We will definitely take them into consideration.”

A hint of embarrassment coloured Lucius’ cheeks. “Forgive me, I do tend to get ahead of myself when planning celebrations. I just want Draco… both of you... to be happy.”

Hermione squeezed his hand. “No one has ever questioned your desire to see Draco happy. I’m just glad it includes me now. Thank you.”

“No, Miss Granger… Hermione.” He met her gaze squarely. “It is I who must thank you. You saw beyond the public condemnation of Draco and gave him a chance. Not many in the wizarding world would have done that, and I am grateful. Narcissa would be very proud of your choice, Draco.” He smiled at Hermione. “And so am I.” 

In the corner, beyond mortal barriers, two spirits observed the goings on with delight. 

“Thank you, Mr Weasley. I don’t think Mr Potter would have been nearly as effective. Lucius can be as stubborn as a Hippogriff with a bad temper.”

Fred winked at Narcissa. “Aren’t they all bad tempered?”

She laughed lightly. “Quite. Still, I’m glad he saw the error of his ways before it was too late. It would have been tedious listening to him blame himself _ad infinitum_ in the Afterlife. If nothing else, you saved me eons of his complaining.”

Fred nodded and saluted her. “Glad to be of assistance.”

Narcissa’s lips curved in a wistful smile. “Just think about next year, when the children start arriving.”

Fred rubbed his hands gleefully together and gave a very Weasley laugh. “I absolutely cannot wait!”


End file.
